


shadow play

by remi_wolf



Series: the superstitions, nay, the religion of internet league blaseball [4]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Divine Destiny, Experimental Style, Gen, How Do I Tag, Surreal, The Shadows (Blaseball), i don't know?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf
Summary: There are days in which the Shadows of Seattle seem to squirm and twist and thrash like the squirming, spinning salmon splashing their way through streams, streaking south to spawning beds. There are the days that happen only on the brightest of sunshine days, when the shadows grow proper inky black and the clouds cannot seem to find it in themselves to provide the cover that they usually do in order to keep the city’s shadows cornered. There are the days in which the only people to be seen on the streets are the Players, those that ride the fine line between knowing and not knowing, between seeing and not seeing, between standing in the light and getting caught up in the dance of Sun and Shadow.
Series: the superstitions, nay, the religion of internet league blaseball [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104305
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	shadow play

There are days in which the Shadows of Seattle seem to squirm and twist and thrash like the squirming, spinning salmon splashing their way through streams, streaking south to spawning beds. There are the days that happen only on the brightest of sunshine days, when the shadows grow proper inky black and the clouds cannot seem to find it in themselves to provide the cover that they usually do in order to keep the city’s shadows cornered. There are the days in which the only people to be seen on the streets are the Players, those that ride the fine line between knowing and not knowing, between seeing and not seeing, between standing in the light and getting caught up in the dance of Sun and Shadow. 

The Players take to the streets these days, working to ensure the Shadows do not ensnare any stray, wayward limb or body or building that should not be stolen. The Shadows are sticky, striving, selfish things that would easily consume the city, and the Players recognize their role in the spark that subsumed and awoke the Shadows and created the half-living creature that they are. While Hellmouth and Hades have their own threats, the Shadows of Seattle are kept far more quiet, a source of shame and fear and worry, as it was the Players that accepted the brokered deal to awaken the Shadows, and as such, it is the Players that work to drag flame and lantern and flashlight and glow stick through the city to ensure that the Shadows cannot escape past the pitch-black, sun-bordered shadows that they are confined to. 

* * *

##  Goodwin Morin 

After destroying a god, as weakened as it was, these Shadows are nothing. They are but spirits, and Goodwin Morin knows that she can dispatch with them easily. Wrap them around her hands, pull them from their moorings, and consume them as though they were a cool spring of water. 

Striding from Shadow to Shadow is as easy as gliding on ice. It takes barely a thought to get to the farthest reaches of the City, where she knows that there are people and buildings and those that cannot defend themselves or hide from the dangers of the Shadows, and she knows that she must be the one to deal with these Shadows. At the edges and the borders of the city, they are difficult and unruly, even at the best of times. Very rarely do they receive any attention, and so Goodwin Morin takes it upon herself to find the worst of them, spreading light and devouring what refuses to be lit. 

However, there are more Shadows than even she can deal with, and so she knows that there will be days that she cannot do everything. Still, these are the days that all of the Players have troubles, and she knows that the other Players will help her where they can, and she knows that she can draw on their strength to continue fighting.

* * *

##  Tot Clark

A long-dead pharaoh of a sun-worshiping culture, of light and warmth and a drive to push back the chaos in favor of cosmic balance, Tot Clark seems to be one of the most effective Players, even from the beginning. Where others are unsure of their role as Player, Tot has no such hesitation, easily pushing back the Shadows as though it is his birthright. In fact, in some ways, it absolutely is his birthright, the mantle finally taken up after thousands of years of procrastination. 

He moves through the city like the king he was, quietly going where needed, and bringing with him the light and warmth that a good friend brings with them. Somehow, the one-time prince and almost-king knows exactly where to go, travelling through the city and finding those apartments and people almost entirely trapped by the Shadows crawling up and into their homes and hearts. 

Even if his light seems to have dimmed somewhat with the loss of his love, he still pushes himself, still works to bring the light to those that are of the city, ensuring that no one else loses their lights from the Shadows pressing too close and growing too greedy.

* * *

##  Sparks Beans 

Sparks Beans is a streak in the sky, a flashing bolt of light that briefly illuminates and banishes some shadows while making other Shadows stronger still, their roiling, teeming masses seemingly pushing against the bright laughter that they hear echoing from building to building. It branches through the city, a seemingly never-ending sound of joy that continues and spreads like the lightning that Sparks has at their fingertips, propelling them onwards. 

Such laughter is important. While the Players intend to hold back the Shadows, as physical or not-physical as they might be, Sparks and their laughter works to help banish the quieter, more insidious shadows that hide away in people’s hearts. With the bright, infectious laughter, they remind people that this is merely one day. A frightening day, but only a day, and the comforting blanket of clouds will soon be dragged over their heads once more to hide from the monsters of the world. 

Of course, the lightning to destroy the Shadows creeping out of the alleyway to prey upon a young boy as they run after a their puppy that escaped is also useful, and also just as impressive as they give the boy a wink and a grin, and messes his hair up with static that lingers for weeks afterwards before they spring off to help push back the next Shadow. 

* * *

##  Lenny Marijuana 

There are some that would make the mistake of thinking that Lenny Marijuana is a bad man. There are some that would equate his disappearance from his son’s live’s, well-remarked upon in their interviews throughout their careers, as well as his emergence only after their respective deaths, with a moral failing on his part. 

They are wrong. 

There are some that think that Lenny Marijuana, with his quiet, unassuming demeanor and beat-up cap, and well-worn flannel in an odd combination of yellows and blues and pinks, and believe that he would be unable to do much as a Player against the Shadows. 

They are wrong. 

What happens instead is this: 

Lenny Marijuana sees the Sun, and looks into it. While his sons have been released, he can still momentarily look into the Sun and let it look into him in return, as though it would bring him closer to his sons for a moment, before finding the nearest thrashing, screaming shadow. He settles down in front of it, just on the edge of the liminal space between light and dark, and he waits for the Shadow to take notice of him. It never takes long, not with such an easy target, and when it does, he moves his foot into the Shadows. 

You see, while Lenny had been unable to be a proper father to his boys, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a good father, when given the chance. You see, while Lenny had  _ wanted _ to be there for his boys, he had been stuck in the Shadows. 

This unique intersection allows for Lenny to quiet murmur and talk to the Shadows, and help them in a way that no one else seems able to acknowledge nor realize. In fact, while the Shadows others dispel likely return the moment the Sun returns, the ones that Lenny talks to instead remain quiet for far longer than anyone realizes. 

* * *

##  Oliver Mueller

With glow sticks and sweet kickflips, Oliver Mueller breaks a window and emerges from home, sweeping his way through the city. Almost as loud and bombastic as Sparks, but without the electric elemental energy, he still does his level-best to fight off the shadows. 

Many people might worry that someone without overt magical abilities like those of Goodwin or Spark or Durham or so many of the Players might have difficulties, especially if they didn’t have time in the Shadows like others, but such people would quickly find themselves dumbfounded and absolutely stunned to realize that Ollie was perfectly equipped to handle himself. After all, he had been a Player since the beginning. It takes a particular soul to manage such a feat, something that very few of the Players had managed at all. 

Ollie, naturally, with such hot-headed ego that propels him forward, easily pushes back against the Shadows. Throwing glow sticks down alleyways and skating through the empty streets, taking the opportunity to practice his tricks as he lights the city up in his own particular fashion. 

Occasionally he’ll catch the eye of a wide-eyed kid through some windows and perform a sick trick as he throws another glow stick into a Shadow, dispelling the darkness with ease. 

If he eats asphalt afterwards, well, that’s a quiet secret between him and the kid. 

* * *

##  Betsy Trombone

Bright and no-nonsense, the edge of a cigarette lit up the way in front of Betsy Trombone as they took up the mantle of Player alongside the others. While they push against the thought that they are a hero, a Player with every right that comes with that claim, the other Garages fight to ensure that BT is recognized, just the same as they are. They might not be as bright as Sparks Beans, nor as bombastic as Goodwin Morin, nor may they have the same number of people that they’ve saved as Tot Clark, but they are just as deserving of the title as Player as anyone else. 

Shadows are dark, the deepest depths of black and hopelessness and despair that can encroach upon the world and devour even the brightest of individuals on their worst of days. However, darkness is fragile, and even the smallest amber glow at the end of a lit cigarette can chase it away. While not flashy and bright, BT still manages to find those that have nearly lost hope, those that have nearly entirely been consumed by the shadows, and walk in, unafraid of being devoured. 

After all, who better to save those nearly lost than one who was despised by their first team, misunderstood by their second, and only welcomed with open arms when they entirely abandoned any pretense or attempts to conform to what others wanted of them. 

* * *

##  Pitching Machine

The Pitching Machine is by far one of the most unusual cases. An excellent Player, one seemingly motivated by nothing but blood and pitching and the love of the game, even it takes part in the sacred duties required of any Player. While it is unknown exactly  _ how _ the Pitching Machine makes its way to where it needs to get, there is no denying the fact that it plays its part to fight back the Shadows. 

There could be the question of how and why a literal pitching machine would fight back the primordial oozes of Shadows trying to crawl across the liminal barrier of light, but watching the Pitching Machine as it pitches somehow-lit incandescent bulbs into the Shadows quickly dispels that question in favor of a more pressing question instead. 

How the bulbs were lit in the first place. 

How did the Pitching Machine have enough light bulbs to travel through the city, lighting the alleyways with the bulbs that exploded into brilliant light as the glass shattered, leaving behind glittering remnants to catch the light from the streets.

Regardless, the Pitching Machine plays its part, and it plays it well, appearing on street corners and while it is entirely unfeeling and doesn’t acknowledge the fact that it is doing this for the people of the city...that doesn’t mean it doesn’t do a remarkable job regardless. 

* * *

##  Paula Turnip

A tree cannot survive, let alone thrive, in the Shadows. Perhaps then, it is a personal vendetta and reason that Paula Turnip readily took up the mantle of a Player in the city. Perhaps, instead, it is the endlessly-smoldering spirit of Violence branded into her form that pushes her to destroy whatever Shadows that she comes across on these bright days that bring fresh greenery to the leaves at her shoulders and the crown of her head. 

Following her footsteps are coals, burning and casting light wherever she goes. Still, she doesn’t rely entirely upon the flames from Hades and Violence that accompany her wherever she walks and roams, bringing flame and fire in such a way that no one would expect from a dryad. Wood shielded from the heat and flames, she spreads the violent light to uneasy Shadows, ensuring there is no way they could spread past their borders. 

Despite this Violence, though, despite the flames and heat that follow her, she can rarely be one of the ones to pull victims out from the Shadows. Whether through her past in Hades, or some other method entirely, she finds victims, and reaches into the Shadows to pull them out. Curled over them, with drops of rumby pomegranate seeds in hand, she feeds them, carefully and precisely, ensuring that they become anchored to the Light once more with the bright tang of blood-red juice on their lips. 

* * *

##  Malik Destiny

Malik Destiny took readily to the work of the Players. Even before he was exchanged with his alternate, Malik could be readily seen fighting and pushing back against the Shadows, working their way from Shadow to Shadow, illuminating them with some blade or another, lit from hilt to tip with a brilliant amber glow that suffused the shadows and filled spying hearts with warmth. 

While this alternative version of Malik Destiny is far more excitable than the original, he still uses the familiar lit blades as he pounces between the Shadows, illuminating them and forcing them back. He still fights with such ferocity and body-filling joy that the Shadows cannot hope to push back against him, cannot hope to find a chink in the armor to bring him down.

Even on the rare occasions that the Shadows  _ do _ attempt such ill-begotten actions, he quickly and easily bats them back again. It helps that he trained for years before his exchange with the other Malik to destroy gods and kings alike, but still, he takes a remarkably enthusiastic liking to the work that the Players take on. 

And, really, it helps that he has a small army of feline rivals that deign to join the Players in their fight, if only so that their rival cannot hold it over them.

* * *

##  Durham Spaceman

Falling from the sky and comprised of void and shadow hirself, Durham Spaceman is unable to bring light to the Shadows. Despite being filled with starlight and the bright light of the Garages team, ze does not bring light or flashlights or glow sticks or fire into the Shadows to push them back. Whether ze doesn’t know how to, or whether the light fails in hir hands when ze tries to hold it, ze cannot use it to push back the Shadows like the other Players. 

Still, Spaceman tries, and continues to perform the role of Player, even in hir own particular way. If someone is to watch them, watch the way they fight the Shadows, they might think entirely otherwise. However, they would be entirely mistaken. Mistaken, incorrect, and entirely wrong about the assumption that Spaceman is perhaps helping the Shadows, instead of fighting them. 

Durham Spaceman has a particularly peculiar ability. From the void, and to the void ze will return, but in the meantime, ze is a Player, and as such, ze  _ will _ fight and push back the Shadows. If one properly watches the shadows that ze steps into, they will find and watch and see that the Shadows swiftly turn into the void of space. A black deeper than the deepest shadow on the Immaterial Plane, one that can only be found by hir when ze returns to the void ze fell from, and one that is swiftly consumed by the squirming shapes that fill hir spacesuit.

Of course, very few remain to see that, and even fewer find themselves able to muster their sanity to tell anyone else what happens. 

Still, Durham Spaceman, in hir own particular way, is a Player.

* * *

##  Summers Pony

Similarly to many of the other new arrivals to the team, it was unknown how Summers Pony would adapt to the work of the Players. However, just as the other Players eagerly took up the mantle to fight against the Shadows, they took to it eagerly. 

In fact, perhaps a little  _ too _ eagerly. 

With the addition of their skates, and their showmanship and general horse-like give-no-fucks attitude, they quickly became one of the more terrifying forces against the Shadows. Even to those they are supposed to be helping, they inspire some level of trepidation and fear, especially as it’s quite easy to see that on these unusually bright and sunny days, they simply wake up and choose violence as the answer to the problems posed to them. 

They skate through the city, horse body strong and proud, lighting up the Shadows behind them with the lights on their skates, flashing and bright and roaming through all sorts of colors as they muscle their way through the Shadows. Nothing stands in their way, and nothing possibly could stand in the way of them. They fight the Shadows off and show them that a massive draft horse with a bone to pick can be just as terrifying as a seven-foot-tall godslayer with shadow arms.

* * *

##  Oliver Notarobot

A Player is a Player, regardless of their human or biological status, as shown by the Pitching Machine, and Oliver Notarobot is no different, even if it takes him far longer to settle into his place and his role alongside the others. His light is unsteady at points, and wavering, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t work towards being the best Player that he can. 

He can be found close to home, close to the borders of what is kept safe by Greer’s careful attention with the roadies and Arturo’s music, and while he cannot bring himself yet to travel further, it allows him to attend to the parts of the city that the others may have a tendency to overlook. 

He makes his way to the small Little Library on the corner, reaching his hand in, with the light that shines from the end of his fingertips, and he chases away the Shadows that threaten to devour the last pages of the books, the Shadows that threaten to nibble and gnaw on the food that is sheltered safely within for those that may not have enough. 

Those Shadows are easily dealt with, but there are other places, other Little Libraries and Community Pantries that need help, just as much as the apartment buildings and bookstores, and so Oliver quietly performs his works and his tasks, attending to these quiet little spaces to be his own sort of Player. 

* * *

##  Quack Enjoyable

One of the most peculiar and enjoyable of the Players, Quack Enjoyable seems to find their way throughout the city almost by chance. Still, they have a small ring of light around their neck, as though they planned for this, and they make their way through the city regardless, bringing their light with them wherever they can. 

It would be easy to overlook Quack, even despite the volume of their words that can be heard making their way throughout the streets, but the Shadows have quickly learned to disappear and not cross Quack’s path. Quack, despite all appearances that might suggest otherwise, is just as formidable of a Player as any of the more...conventional players. With their necklace of light, and formidable noises, the Shadows quickly retreat, falling back into line. 

And, should they not do so...Quack takes a certain pleasure in pulling out a knife, even if it may not do that much against the roiling darkness that all the Players fight against. 

* * *

##  Greer Gwiffin

It wouldn’t be expected that a dead-beat dad would be able to realize the importance of being a Player. However, Greer Gwiffin is one of the few that turn their attention towards home, ensuring that the Shadows dare not encroach. After all, if the Shadows overtake home, then the city would be lost. The city cannot be lost, and so Greer keeps his attention close at home. 

While the little roadies, the bright-eyed youth that follow and praise and nigh-on worship the Players, cannot entirely participate in the work to push back the Shadows, Greer can ensure that they assist where they can. On days where the weather and the Sun is to be bright, and the Shadows restless, Greer can send them throughout home, ensuring that each corner is lit as brightly as possible, that there is no possible place that the Shadows can use as a hand-hold in order to bring them down from the inside. 

Some may think that it’s irresponsible, that it is inviting chaos and ruin and damnation upon the Players and their roadies, however Greer will simply smile and shrug, and return his attention to his care at home, and let the fact that their home has yet to fall to the Shadows speak for itself. 

* * *

##  Arturo Huerta

It’s difficult to tell the work that Arturo does in the city. They’re a Player, and so they must be doing  _ something _ when the sun is bright in the sky and the Shadows at their strongest. If they weren’t doing anything, then they wouldn’t be a Player, and there would be no way that they could play in the first place. As it is impossible to truly know Arturo, it is impossible to truly know what they are doing. 

What can be known, though, is that there is an odd music that plays during these days. The exact melody is impossible to keep track of, and even the instrument is impossible to recall afterwards, but this melody easily spreads throughout the city. The Players that hear are refreshed, their work filled with renewed vigor, and the people of the city that hear are reminded once more that they are not alone. The Players will help them, and the Players will fight back the Shadows. 

Perhaps it is not the flashiest of actions, and perhaps it isn’t work that would help shine a spotlight upon Arturo, however they are still vital. They still perform their work as a Player, and they help the others, even if they cannot remember what or who helps them and keeps them fighting.

* * *

##  Theodore Duende

The ever-beloved captain is by far the most unusual of the Players. Whether by accident or intentional, he is always the last of the Players to leave home on these days. The last to leave, and the first to return home, through no fault of his own. 

You see, he makes his way through the city on these days, quietly humming and hands tapping out phantom melodies and rhythms as he takes in the empty city. Shadows might nip at his heels, leaving Sparks to zap it away, or attempt to devour him, only to have Ollie distract it away, but Theodore very rarely seems to do anything to directly push back at the Shadows. 

Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t care for the direct fight. Despite being a Player, there is nothing to say that the players  _ must _ push back and fight against the Shadows. He provides what assistance he can to the other Players, through giving them more glow sticks and light bulbs and flashlights when they ask, and by providing coffee and food and drink to help them keep going, assisting in the fight in his own small way, but that doesn’t seem right. The idea that a player would not take up the mantle in the fight, especially one as well-regarded and well-respected as Teddy, was unbelievable. He was a Player, or by all rights, it seemed as though he should be, regardless of appearance.

Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t see the Shadows. After all, on these days, when the liminal spaces between the Shadows and the Light are thinnest, even Mike may appear before Teddy to repair broken bridges and hurt souls, but Teddy doesn’t even stop to look at the familiar figure that he had grown to call a friend over seasons of life-threatening play. He doesn’t hesitate when even Goodwin God-slayer would pause and take stock of whether they could truly fight off the Shadow they’re walking into. 

Regardless, the Captain walks through the lonely city, a deep melancholy in his chest, a rippling cape of pain and hurt and guilt following behind him, deep and black enough to act as a shepherd to all of the Shadows of the city, preventing them from hurting anyone else and to act as a guiding light for the Players, a way to find and push back even the most formidable of Shadows in the city. 

**Author's Note:**

> weird fic is weird!  
> I've been working on this one for...ugh, probably about two weeks now? chipping away at it and trying to make it work. Super experimental, obviously, and in line with my other blaseball fics, but I got the idea for Sparks and Goodwin and Teddy, so I just...ended up writing something for all of them. Got hard at points, but in the end...I'm pretty happy with it, I think. I hope everyone enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always welcome!


End file.
